


Trusting Your Heart

by Aglarien



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aglarien/pseuds/Aglarien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glorfindel is attracted to a newly arrived, shy elf and needs some help breaking down barriers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trusting Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thrandilf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thrandilf/gifts).



> Characters: Glorfindel/Maeron (OC), Elrond/Erestor  
> Rating: R  
> Disclaimer: Not mine, except for Erestor’s cat. No money, no fame.  
> Warnings: AU.  
> Beta: Phyncke  
> Request: Written for Sarah Rae for the My Slashy Valentine 2014 fic exchange. Request: Fluff, awkward courtship, an angry, uptight or cynical personality/a joyous, playful personality dynamic, Third or Fourth Age, trying foreign food. The elves, as usual, had a mind of their own about this and Maeron refused to be anything but nervous and shy. I hope it pleases.

“Follow your heart, but be quiet for a while first. Ask questions, then feel the answer. Learn to trust your heart.” ~Unknown

 

 

Maeron sat at his desk in the library, staring at what had been left there in his absence. A piece of flaky pastry sat beside a note with his name written on it in fine script, but they were not alone. At the bottom of the desktop, caught in the lip with his quill so it wouldn’t fall, was a red rose with a long stem that bore no thorns. He bit his bottom lip and worried his hands in his lap, wondering if he should open the note. Candir had started like this, sending him little notes and leaving him little gifts. Maeron had been lonely after his parents had sailed and decided to stay in the Grey Havens, where he’d found work in Círdan’s library. He’d been flattered when Candir first started paying attention to him, but then Candir had gotten very brazen and aggressive when Maeron let it be known he wasn’t interested in an intimate relationship with the guard, and Candir’s friends had started taunting him as well. The last time Maeron had seen Candir, the larger elf had pinned him against a wall and tore his clothes. Maeron had been so afraid that he had kneed Candir in the groin and was finally able to get away. He ran straight to his quarters, packed what belongings he could carry, and hid at an inn until he could join a party of elves traveling back to Imladris. He’d had to leave or the next time Candir would not have let him get away. He was smart enough to know what would have happened then. 

He’d been in the hidden valley for over a month now, and was very grateful to Erestor for giving him a job in the library. He had finally begun to feel safe. He’d started to make friends with some of the other scribes and Elrond was letting him work with the healers. Erestor had even given him some new clothes once he’d seen that Maeron didn’t have many belongings. Well, maybe they weren’t new, but they were almost new and were of better quality than anything Maeron had owned before. He had also been given a room, which, to his great surprise, he did not have to share with anyone else. It held a comfortable bed and bedside table, a chest of drawers, a washstand with a bowl and pitcher, a small desk with a shelf for books, and it had a window that looked out over beautiful gardens. The room was comfortable and was beginning to feel like home to him. The gardeners had even allowed him to take a small fern, and now the lovely thing was growing in a bowl on the top of the chest. 

But what if Candir had found him and come after him? He had a moment of panic and then dismissed that idea. He had nightmares of that happening, but he refused to think it in broad daylight. If Candir had found him he wouldn’t have left him a rose. He probably would have just tried to finish what he’d started back at the Grey Havens. And if he tried that, Maeron was pretty sure that Elrond and Erestor wouldn’t put up with it, especially since he worked for Erestor now. Erestor was Elrond’s husband, and although Maeron thought it was strange for Elrond to marry again after his wife sailed, it wasn’t his place to judge. All he knew was that both Elrond and Erestor were very kind and provided well for the elves who worked in their home. 

He cautiously picked up the envelope bearing his name, holding it out as if something was about to jump out at him. After a moment, he took up his paper knife, slit open the seal, and laid the missive on his desk. It was a very short note which simply read, “Thank you for helping me find the book I was searching for yesterday.” The signature at the bottom of the paper read, “Glorfindel.” Maeron turned the paper over in his hand and looked more closely, finding that the note had been sealed with a flower embossed in the wax. His hand shook as he laid the paper down on his desk. Why would someone of Lord Glorfindel’s position bother with a scribe such as he? Did he want the same thing that Candir had wanted? No, it wasn’t possible. Was it? He absent mindedly picked up the pastry and took a bite of the honeyed treat. 

Lord Glorfindel had been coming around the library more and more, turning him into a nervous wreck. Glorfindel was almost as important as Lord Elrond. Maeron just wished he wasn’t so afraid of the powerful captain of Imladris’ guards. Glorfindel wasn’t like the healers. Maeron enjoyed spending time with the kind and gentle elves who worked in the healing rooms. 

It was later in the afternoon when a startled Maeron saw Glorfindel standing in the doorway, looking at him. “Your p..pardon, my L..lord,” he stuttered. “I d..did not see you waiting. May I help you find another b..book?”

“No book this time,” Glorfindel said, smiling at Erestor’s newest scribe. “I wondered if you might care to join me for dinner tonight, if you do not already have other plans.” 

“I am sorry, my L..lord,” Maeron answered, grateful that Lord Glorfindel had offered him a way out of the invitation. “I have p..plans already.”

“Perhaps another evening then,” Glorfindel said.

 

~~*~~

Glorfindel flopped onto the visitor chair in front of Erestor’s desk, a frown settling on his normally joyful countenance. “Tell me about the new scribe you have working in the library?” He gently removed the sleeping Tinnu from his friend’s desk and settled the cat in his lap, enjoying the deep rumble from the cat as he moved his fingers over the animal’s head. 

“Maeron? The new scribe doing the cataloguing who just came here from the Grey Havens? Tell you what?”

Glorfindel sighed. “He intrigues me, but the poor elf can barely stand to talk to me.”

“Intrigues?” Erestor smiled. “You mean someone has finally caught your attention? Maeron is quiet and reserved. He chose to come here after his parents sailed. He seems very competent and his work is very precise.”

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow at his friend. He was more than attracted to the young scribe. In the centuries that Glorfindel had returned to Arda from the Blessed Realm, no one had attracted him. No male or female elf touched that part of his heart. Yes, he had friends – close friends – but love had eluded him. Even the pull to know someone more intimately had been absent until he had caught sight of the tall, slender elf with beautiful sable hair and soft grey eyes. The elf called to his soul as no other had ever done. It was just too bad the elf turned into a trembling, stuttering mess whenever Glorfindel was around. “Maeron is more than quiet. He’s nervous and uncomfortable in my presence. Does he have any friends here? How does he spend his spare time?”

“I have seen him with some of the other scribes in the library and gardens, but I don’t think he has a particular friend. I believe he spends most of his spare time in the healing rooms.”

“Healing rooms? Why would he be spending time in the healing rooms?” Glorfindel was now even more intrigued. 

“Because he’s a kind person and wants to be able to help others,” Elrond said, entering the office with his arms full of papers that he placed in Erestor’s desk before bending down to kiss the top of the chief counselor’s head. “He asked me when he came if he could study with the healers when he wasn’t working and I gave my consent. Elves traveling to the Havens often arrived with wounds and injuries, and he frequently worked in the healing hall there to help out. He wishes to be helpful.”

Tinnu jumped from Glorfindel’s lap to the desk to sniff at the new stack of papers Elrond had deposited on the surface. 

“So why is he so nervous and uncomfortable whenever I appear?” Glorfindel asked.

“Perhaps your position intimidates him?” Elrond replied, picking up Tinnu and moving the cat to the desk that sat beside Erestor’s.

“How could my position intimidate him when yours and Erestor’s do not?”

Elrond smiled. “We are not the legendary balrog slayer, my friend,” he said quietly. “What is your interest in Maeron?” 

Glorfindel sat up straighter and looked up his lord. “I am … attracted … to him,” he finally answered.

“Ah.” Elrond’s eyebrows rose. 

“And regardless of what I try, I can barely get him to look at me.”

“You will need to court him cautiously,” Erestor said. “It worked for Elrond with me.” He glanced over at Elrond who now sat at his own desk beside Erestor’s, holding Tinnu and calmly petting him.

There was such love in the look the two elves gave each other that the words Glorfindel was going to say were stalled in his throat. He felt like an intruder, but finally cleared his throat to get Erestor’s attention. “So will you help me?”

Erestor nodded. “But you must be very, very patient.”

Glorfindel groaned.

~~*~~

On the following day, Maeron was seated at his desk when a servant delivered a message that Lord Elrond wished to see him. Worried that he had done something wrong, he quickly refastened the stray lock that always came loose and hung over his left eye, and brushed his hands over his robes. A few moments later, he stood at the door to the office shared by the Lords Elrond and Erestor and rapped his knuckles against the doorframe, announcing his presence. “You called for me, my Lord?”

“Please, come in, Maeron,” Elrond said as he smiled at the scribe. “Erestor and I would like to invite you to join us for dinner tonight. We enjoy the opportunity to get to know the people we work with better. Dinner will be at eight o’clock in our quarters. Do you know where that is?”

Maeron was more than surprised at the invitation, which could not be refused, framed as it was, but managed to reply before too long of a time passed. “Yes, my Lord, I know where it is. Thank you. I will be there.”

As he left Elrond’s office, Maeron shook his head, wondering what had just happened. He was having dinner with Lord Elrond and Lord Erestor in their private quarters. He pinched himself to make sure he hadn’t nodded off and was dreaming it all up. He was nervous about the invitation and spent the next hour wondering how he should act and what he should say, but finally realized that would depend on how the Lords Elrond and Erestor acted and what they said. He forced himself to get back to his work and worked diligently until it was time for him to get ready for dinner. 

Maeron returned to his room and dressed in one of the sets of clothing that Erestor had given him. The robes and under tunic were his favorite – a cream colored tunic, richly embroidered in flowing designs around the collar and cuffs in the same creamy color, and a deep blue robe with wide sleeves that allowed the stitching on the tunic to be seen. The outfit was very elegant and the finest he had ever possessed. After making sure his hair was presentable, he walked down the hall to a flight of stairs that led to a landing, then to another set of stairs that carried him into the next building and thence to Lord Elrond’s quarters, where he rapped on the door and waited.

“Come in, come in,” Erestor said, opening the door wide and motioning Maeron inside. “You are very welcome, Maeron. I am looking forward to having the time to get to know you better. I hope you will not mind if I pester you with questions.”

“I will not mind at all,” Maeron replied. “You and Lord Elrond have been more than kind to me.” 

“I won’t let him grill you too much,” Elrond said, coming into the room. “Erestor has an insatiable curiosity about everyone.”

Maeron glanced quickly about the room as he was motioned to the dining table, which had been set for three near the open balcony doors. The room contained comfortable looking couches, a large writing desk, and a grouping of plush chairs and side tables. Books and what looked like astronomical instruments littered the side tables and fireplace mantel, and Erestor’s black cat lay sleeping in front of the fire. The table where they were to take their meal was set with sparkling crystal and silver, and there was a fragrant arrangement of roses and ferns in the center of the table. The meal had already been placed on the table and sat waiting in covered serving dishes. He was nervous, but kept reminding himself that he now knew Lord Elrond and Lord Erestor and they were both friendly and kind to him. There was nothing to be afraid of.

“Is Glorfindel not joining us tonight?” Elrond asked. 

Maeron held his breath, waiting for Erestor’s answer, now even more nervous.

“He sent his regrets,” Erestor replied, indicating to Maeron where he was to sit. “He and a group of the guards are helping repair some the fences around the pastures that came down in the last storm.”

Maeron let out his breath and relaxed somewhat.

“Good. We can’t afford to lose any the livestock,” Elrond said as the three of them took their seats. He took up the first serving dish, removed the cover, and divided the vegetables within onto three plates, while Erestor served a dish that looked like chicken.

In addition to the chicken and vegetables, there was bread with butter, sugared fruit and wine, and Maeron suddenly realized that he was very hungry. He’d forgotten to stop for lunch today and had missed the meal. The food looked delicious and Maeron knew it would be very tasty indeed. All the food prepared in the Imladris kitchens was always good, a far cry from the fare that had sometimes been available in the Grey Havens. Of course he had never been at Círdan’s table and suspected that the Shipwright ate better than the common folk did. He cautiously waited until both Elrond and Erestor had picked up their forks and began eating before he did the same.

“Do you know Lord Glorfindel?” Erestor asked after they had all taken a few bites. 

“I have met him, my Lord,” Maeron answered. “I helped him find a book and he left me a pastry and a rose in thanks.” He pressed two fingers to his lips, wishing he hadn’t added that last part.

Erestor smiled. “That sounds like our Glorfindel. He is ever kind and never forgets to thank those who do anything for him, however small.”

“Have you known him for many years, my Lord?” Maeron asked.

“Elrond and I have both known him since he was returned to Middle-earth,” Erestor said, “and please call me Erestor when we are in private.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Maeron said, and then hastily added, “I mean, Erestor.”

“And how are you finding Imladris?” Elrond asked. “You seem to have settled in well. Are you happy here?”

“Oh, indeed, my Lord,” Maeron replied. “I am very happy here, and I am learning much, both from working with Lord Erestor and in the healing rooms. After my parents sailed, I wanted…a change, and I’m very thankful you allowed me to stay here.”

There was silence for a few more minutes while the elves ate, until Erestor spoke again. “I have noticed that you spend much time in the healing rooms after your work for me is finished. Which work do you prefer, that of a scribe or a healer?”

Maeron laid his fork down and remained silent for a moment. He did not want to offend Erestor, for it was the counselor who had taken him in when he first arrived in Imladris, had given him a room in the great house, and given him work, clothing, and anything else he needed.

“You may be truthful without offending me,” Erestor prompted. “There is no right or wrong answer and both trades are important to me. What does your heart tell you?”

Maeron cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and finally raised his eyes to Erestor’s. “My heart tells me that I want to be a healer, my Lord. Being a scribe – I can do the work, and do it easily and well, but I freely admit it does not satisfy me as working in the healing rooms does.”

“I suspected as much.” Erestor motioned to Maeron to continue eating and passed the young elf the plate of bread. “If working for me satisfied you, I doubt you would feel the need to go to the healing rooms after dinner each night.” Looking to Elrond, he said, “Will you apprentice Maeron to the healers, then, my dear?”

“Gladly,” Elrond answered. “The healers speak highly of him and will be happy to have him full time.”

Maeron’s life had once again taken another turn, and this one was a very important one. He could not stop the smile that brightened his face. He had just been made an apprentice healer, and his heart could not have been fuller.

 

Later that night, when Maeron was alone and could spend some time in thought, he lay in his bed and reflected on what he had learned about Lord Glorfindel. The fabled Balrog Slayer, the Captain of Imladris, was out in the pasture with his men, mending fences so the sheep and cows could not stray. Erestor had said that Glorfindel was kind. The fact that Erestor had said that meant a lot, for the counselor was kindness itself. Elrond had not contradicted it, and Elrond was even kinder than Erestor, as everyone knew. They had both known Glorfindel since the Valar sent him back over the sea. Maeron had learned at the Grey Havens that guards and their captains could be haughty and pretentious, but maybe they weren’t all like that? He had purposely avoided any of the guards in Imladris, not wanting a repeat of what had happened with Candir. He’d thought that Glorfindel would be a proud and snobbish elf, but apparently he was wrong. With those thoughts running through his mind, he finally slept.

For the next few weeks, Maeron saw Glorfindel only in passing. He was kept very busy in the healing rooms and was learning more and more every day. No longer was he just cutting and rolling bandages and restocking supplies. Under the guidance of a healer, he was cleaning and treating cuts and wounds of all sorts, blending herbs, and had even assisted in setting a dislocated shoulder. Although it was only in passing, Maeron could swear he noticed every time Glorfindel was near. The sound of his voice would send a shiver up Maeron’s spine, and Glorfindel’s musical laughter never failed to make him smile. Whenever he saw Glorfindel, the captain was always smiling, always laughing, and always seemed so full of joy. How very different Glorfindel was from all of the other guards Maeron had ever met. 

Maeron was also learning that the guards in Imladris were different from the guards he had known at the Grey Havens. Many of them landed in the healing rooms for injuries sustained while training or out on patrol. At first, Maeron had been extremely nervous around them, but they always treated him kindly and respectfully, and he’d even made friends with some of them. They invited him at times to spend an evening playing chess or card games and drinking ale, and didn’t try to cheat him or do things that made him uncomfortable. They were just friends, just like the scribes he had made friends with and still spent time with. And the guards talked about Glorfindel. They talked about what a good leader he was, and what a good trainer, always willing to share his skills with them. They talked about how very brave he was and how he’d stood against the Witch King of Angmar and predicted his doom. They talked about how full of life he was and how he loved to laugh, and how kind he was to everyone, especially to those who needed his protection.

It was at the end of a month that Erestor invited him to dinner again, and Maeron once more dressed in his best robes, made sure his hair was presentable, walked down the hall to a flight of stairs that led to a landing and then to another set of stairs that carried him into the next building, and thence to Lord Elrond’s quarters, where he rapped on the door.

“Come in, Maeron,” Erestor said warmly, opening the door. “I’m very pleased you can spend some time with us again. The healers are sending wonderful reports of your progress, and I have to say I am very proud of you.”

Maeron beamed. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“Erestor when we’re alone, remember? Come, sit with me at the table. Dinner is here and Elrond will be here any minute. I hope you don’t mind that we have another guest tonight?”

Maeron bowed his head in respect and took his seat, noting the fourth place set at the table. “How could I mind?”

Just then the door opened Elrond strode in, accompanied by Glorfindel. Maeron stood abruptly, nearly tipping over his chair in the process. Glorfindel was here! He gulped and then steadied himself, taking a deep breath. He would not be intimidated by the warrior. Erestor had said he was kind. It didn’t matter that he had killed a balrog, Glorfindel was kind. Kind like Erestor. Kind like Elrond. Right. He bowed to Elrond and Glorfindel, his hand over his heart. “My Lords.”

“Maeron!” Glorfindel exclaimed. He carefully removed a red, thornless rose from inside his robe and presented it to Maeron with a flourish, bowing. “I have missed my favorite scribe in library! I am told the healers have stolen you away.”

Maeron blushed and accepted the rose, bowing in turn to Glorfindel, if not as low as the warrior. “Thank you for the rose,” he said softly. “It is a beautiful flower.”

Erestor invited the other three elves to sit down, and dinner began. During the delicious meal the conversation was light, and ran from the state of the fields, the harvesting of herbs, the building of some new stables and forges, and Maeron’s progress in the healing rooms. Maeron joined in occasionally, and blushed when Glorfindel asked him direct questions. 

When it was time for dessert, Elrond stood and brought a tray from one of the other tables. “We have a special treat tonight! Some traders arrived from the east and I managed to barter some of our fine cloth for these.” He removed the napkin that covered the tray.

“Whatever is it?” Erestor asked. Oblong brown tubes were arranged on the tray, and looked to have been dipped in honey.

“They are called “dates” and apparently they grow on very tall trees that have but one thin trunk, topped by something like a fern. The dates grow in bunches like grapes that hang from the fern part. I tried one before I made the trade, and it was sweet and delicious. The cooks have done some things to these, I believe. The one I tried did not have honey on it. Try one.” 

Erestor cautiously picked up one of the dates and looked at it carefully.

Glorfindel laughed. “You’d think it would bite you!” 

Erestor leant over the table and gingerly took a bite, exposing an almond that had been stuffed inside the fruit. His eyebrows raised and he quickly chewed and swallowed before popping the rest of the date into his mouth. “Delicious!” he finally exclaimed.

The elves made short work of the treat and Maeron found that Glorfindel had slide one of his dates onto Maeron’s plate. Maeron smiled shyly and accepted the gift with a gentle bow of his head. 

When the last drop of honey had been licked off of fingers, Glorfindel asked, “Are the traders still nearby and have they any more of these dates?”

“I traded for all they had, after I tried one,” Elrond replied with a grin. “The cooks have the rest and are making sweet breads and biscuits with them so everyone will be able to sample them.”

“Excellent idea.”

After dinner and a game of chess in which Maeron and Glorfindel pitted themselves against Elrond and Erestor and lost dreadfully, Maeron rose to leave and was stopped by Erestor. “Don’t forget your rose. It’s a very special one.”

Glorfindel escorted Maeron through the hallways and stairs to the young healer’s room. “I should very much like to spend some more time with you and get to know you better,” Glorfindel said, remembering Erestor’s cautionary words to be patient. When Maeron shyly nodded his agreement, he continued, “Perhaps we could take a walk in the gardens tomorrow night?”

“I would like that,” Maeron agreed, offering a small smile before murmuring, “Good night, my Lord,” and slipping into his room.

Once he was inside his room, he leant against the closed door and looked at the rose he carried. Erestor had said it was special. It was beautiful and the thorns had been removed, but he did not know what was special about it. Imladris’ gardens were full of beautiful roses. Placing the rose in a glass of water on the table next to his bed, he put the thought aside for the night, letting his mind dwell instead on Glorfindel and their upcoming walk in the gardens.

 

Maeron had meant to go to the library before dinner the next evening to see if he could discover what Erestor meant about the rose being special, but an elf with a severe cut had come to the healing rooms just as he was about to leave, and the healer had asked him to stay and observe how to place stitches so there had simply not been time. He hurried to his usual place in the dining hall, sitting with the few friends he had become close to. Glorfindel would occasionally take his evening meal at the same time in the hall, and he was there tonight. Maeron could see him across the hall, sitting with some of the other members of Elrond’s counsel. The captain was dressed in deep green robes fastened high around his neck, setting off his long, golden hair. Sleeves of gold peeked from beneath the cuffs of the outer robe when he extended an arm to reach for something. Glorfindel really was the most beautiful elf Maeron had ever seen. 

He ate quickly and left the dining hall early, nearly running to his room to change into his second best set of robes. He had just finished dressing and brushing his hair out when a knock sounded on this door. Knowing it would be Glorfindel, he took a deep breath, gave a quirky smile to his reflection in the mirror and turned to go to the door. When he had opened the door, Glorfindel stood there, resplendent in his green and gold, and Maeron felt butterflies in his stomach. When Glorfindel extended his arm to Maeron, the younger elf placed his hand on Glorfindel’s arm and they walked together down the hall.

They walked through the gardens, and Glorfindel stopped at a particularly lovely red rose bush. He broke off a beautiful rose and, one by one, snapped the thorns off before handing the rose to Maeron. 

“Thank you,” Maeron said softly, taking the rose and blushing faintly. “It is beautiful.”

“You are beautiful,” Glorfindel said in reply, watching Maeron with sparkling eyes. “I like you very much, you know, Maeron.”

“I like you, too. I didn’t expect you to be so kind.” Maeron was very much afraid that he was about to babble. He could feel it bubbling up but he couldn’t help himself. Glorfindel liked him? The words came tumbling out. “You’re nothing like the guards in the Grey Havens. I thought all guards were mean and after only one thing. That’s why I came here, you know. Candir just wouldn’t stop and I couldn’t convince him I only wanted to be his friend, and when he pinned me against that wall, well... Well. Something bad would have happened to me if I’d stayed.”

Glorfindel frowned and held Maeron by the shoulders, looking into his eyes. “Someone attacked you in the Havens? Who is this Candir?” he asked sternly.

Maeron was taken aback at Glorfindel’s manner and tried to step back, away from the anger he saw in Glorfindel’s eyes.

“I am sorry, Maeron,” Glorfindel said quickly, seeing the fright in Maeron’s eyes. “I did not mean to startle you. I’m just angry that someone did that to you. No elf should ever have unwanted attention forced upon them.”

Maeron gave a nod and felt more comfortable with Glorfindel again. “Candir is one of the guards in the Grey Havens.”

“I will make sure that Lord Círdan learns of his behavior, and before you object, if he did that to you, what will he do to the next person who tells him no? Such behavior among elves is not to be tolerated.”

Maeron knew Glorfindel was right, but he didn’t want to think about it or talk about any more so he took Glorfindel’s arm again and starting walking. He had no idea why he had just blurted all of that out to Glorfindel. He hadn’t told anyone in Imladris. And then he realized why. Glorfindel made him feel safe. That was it. “I feel safe with you,” he said aloud.

“You are safer with me than anyone else on Arda,” Glorfindel said, stopping to pick another red rose. He removed the thorns one at a time and presented the flower to Maeron.

Maeron wondered why he was safer with Glorfindel than even Lord Elrond, but reasoned it was because Glorfindel was such a powerful warrior. Thanking Glorfindel for the second rose, the added it to the first and they began walking again, and Glorfindel began to tell him stories of Gondolin.

“I enjoyed our walk, Glorfindel,” Maeron said as they were once again at the door to his room. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me about Gondolin and for the beautiful roses.”

“You are welcome. Will you walk with me again tomorrow evening?”

Maeron nodded. “I would like that.”

Glorfindel raised Maeron’s hand to his lips and kissed the tips of his fingers. “Until tomorrow night,” he whispered. “Good night, sweet Maeron, and rest well.” 

Maeron, his cheeks a rosy hue, leant against the wall, watching Glorfindel walk down the hall. “Until tomorrow,” he whispered, holding his fingertips against his cheek.

 

The next day Maeron left the healing rooms in time to search the library before dinner. After an hour’s search, he gave up and went to see Lord Erestor. “May I ask you something, my Lord?” Erestor’s door had been open and he approached the desk.

“Of course. What is it?”

“You said at dinner the night before last that the rose Glorfindel gave me was special. Can you tell me why? I have searched for a book about it, but cannot find anything.”

“Ah,” Erestor said, and reached to a shelf behind his desk, removing a book. “Yes, I can tell you, but perhaps I should give you this instead. You will find the answer in the chapter on roses. Bring the book back to me when you are finished with it.”

Maeron thanked Erestor and took the book to one of the reading nooks in the library, settling down to read on a couch. The book was entitled, “The Gondolinian Art Of Speaking With Flowers,” and his eyebrows shot up. He leafed quickly through the book. Apparently, flowers could be used to convey messages or thoughts or feelings. He had never heard of this before. He read through several pages before reminding himself that he still had to go to the dining hall for dinner, so he flipped to the chapter on roses, reading each of the colors and types and their meanings, until he came to a thornless red rose. The meaning took his breath away. Love at first sight. It seemed impossible. How could Glorfindel possibly love him? They barely knew each other, after all. But then elves did know somehow, didn’t they? They weren’t like humans. The Valar had graced the Elven race with the gift of discernment. So how did he really feel about Glorfindel? He let every time he had seen Glorfindel, every time he had spoken with him, and walked with him, flow through his mind. And then he knew. If he hadn’t been so afraid and nervous, if it hadn’t been for Candir, he would have fallen in love with Glorfindel the first time he saw him too. He took up the book and raced back to Erestor’s office. He had to make sure.

“Is it true?” Maeron asked, failing to notice that Elrond was now there as well.

“It is true,” Erestor said, reaching out and taking the book that Maeron held out.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Is what true?” Elrond asked, looking perplexed at the conversation.

“The thornless red rose,” Erestor replied.

Elrond smiled. “Oh, yes, it’s true. I’ve never known Glorfindel to be so smitten with anyone. You would be wise to accept his love, you know. Glorfindel doesn’t care for titles and status. He is just an ordinary elf in many ways. And no one could love you better or make you happier.”

Maeron nodded but said nothing, stunned that both of his lords had confirmed what the rose meant. He had some thinking to do, but love wasn’t making him stupid – not yet, anyway. He went to the kitchens and begged a plate of whatever was being served for dinner, taking a tray with his meal to his room after promising to return the tray and plates later that night. After eating quickly, he hurried down the hall to return the tray, and then to the shared baths. It would not do to greet Glorfindel smelling of the healing rooms. Back in his room, he dressed in his favorite, finest robes, then went out to the gardens, searching for a single, large, red rose in full bloom. When he found one, he snipped it off with his fingers, but did not remove any of the thorns. Back in his room, he set the rose on the table and waited for Glorfindel to arrive.

Maeron did not have long to wait and opening the door, was stunned to find Glorfindel standing there with an armful of red roses, all without thorns. Maeron took the roses into his arms and smelled deeply. “They are beautiful.” He was so nervous, but it had to be now or he would never have the courage to go through with it. He moved into the room and set the roses on his bed before taking up the single rose that he had picked earlier. “It has thorns, unlike the ones you have been giving me, for I cannot say I loved you at first sight, but I do love you now and I willingly accept your love.”

~~~*~~~

Glorfindel pulled Maeron into his arms before the younger elf could say another word, claiming the soft lips he had so longed to take. He deepened the kiss, and Maeron opened to him, inviting him in. Somewhere in his passion-shrouded mind, he told himself he must remember to thank Erestor for advising him to be patient with Maeron.

 

~~~*~~~

Many years later……

Maeron watched as Glorfindel carried the injured hobbit into one of the guest rooms. Lord Elrond himself would be caring for this patient, but Maeron was there with herbs, bandages and instruments to assist the Master Healer. It was very late when Elrond finally told Maeron he could go; Elrond would stay that night with the hobbit. Maeron tidied the supplies he would leave in the room, taking everything else away for cleaning or burning. When all had been put away back in the healing rooms, he wearily took the stairs to the suite of rooms he had shared with Glorfindel for many years. Hopefully Glorfindel had been able to get cleaned up and have a meal. Maeron couldn’t remember ever being so worried about his husband, or so relieved to see him return. He knew there was great evil afoot, and his brave, courageous, and totally unstoppable Glorfindel had been right in the thick of it. 

When he reached his rooms, he found Erestor sitting with Glorfindel. The remains on the dinner tray showed the two of them had shared a meal, for which Maeron was glad. Glorfindel had bathed and wore fresh leggings and tunic. He was stretched out on a couch and Erestor’s newest black kitten, also named Tinnu, slept on Glorfindel’s lap. What drew Maeron’s attention first, however, was the bandage wrapped around one of Glorfindel’s wrists. “What happened?” he asked. Maeron moved quickly and was kneeling beside Glorfindel, unwrapping the bandage before the injured elf could get a word out.

“It is nothing, love,” Glorfindel said, trying to move his hand away until Maeron glared at him. “Just a little burn. A piece of the torch flew back and hit me when we were using fire to keep the Nazgûl away. I have put salve on it.”

“Dear Valar,” Maeron murmured. He saw Glorfindel was right; it was not a bad burn and would heal well, but the Nazgûl? “Was he there too?” he asked, knowing Glorfindel would know he was referring to the Witch-king of Angmar who Glorfindel had already stood against once. That evil used black magic. He moved to a cabinet and extracted a small jar of salve to apply to the wound. It would heal the burn better than the salve Glorfindel had used.

“Yes. But he did not get Frodo nor the other hobbits.”

“Thanks to you,” Erestor said.

“And thanks to Aragorn. You should have seen him, Erestor. You would have been so proud. He fought courageously. The hobbits told me he fought the Nazgûl on Amon Sûl. It was there the Witch-king stabbed Frodo.”

“I should go and check on Aragorn,” Erestor answered, standing. “Arwen has had enough time with him, I think, and you need your rest. Or not.” He smiled suggestively at his friends, took the kitten from Glorfindel’s lap and left.

“I was so worried,” Maeron said as he rested his forehead against Glorfindel’s. He had finished bandaging the burn and ran his fingers through the thick golden hair he loved. “You were gone so long and only Elrond’s certainty that you were all right kept me sane. I can’t believe you went up against the Nazgûl. Remind me to yell at you about that one.”

Glorfindel chuckled. “I missed you too, love. So very much.” He pulled Maeron up onto the couch and held him close before his mouth closed over Maeron’s in a possessive kiss that was full of fire and passion.

Maeron’s lips opened and he allowed Glorfindel to deepen the kiss as his hands squirmed their way upward under Glorfindel’s tunic, fingertips massaging nipples that peaked into hardness. 

In what seemed but a moment, Maeron found himself divested of his robes and lying beneath his naked husband. “Missed you so much,” he murmured, his fingers roaming Glorfindel’s sides. “Missed this so much.” He arched against Glorfindel as oil-slickened fingers made him ready and an instant later, he was joined once more with his mate, his lover, his forever. “Love you so much.” He wrapped his legs around Glorfindel’s waist and bucked his hips, urging his lover to move. 

“Love you,” Glorfindel murmured, burying his face in Maeron’s neck and rocking into him. “Don’t ever want to leave you like that again.”

Maeron moaned in pleasure as Glorfindel sank into him, again and again. Before Glorfindel, he had never dreamed that making love could be so pleasurable, so fulfilling. It was more than pleasure; it was the bonding of their souls, time and time again. If Glorfindel ever left him and didn’t come back, if he ever lost his good elf, this part of his heart and soul, he couldn’t survive. “Love you,” he whispered. “Never leave me.”

“Never,” Glorfindel said. “I will never leave you.”

And he never did.

 

~End


End file.
